


Darling, dearest

by UlsPi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Caring, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), Crowley's Plants (Good Omens), Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, First Time, Fuckbuddies, Gardener Aziraphale (Good Omens), Getting Together, Hurt Crowley, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, May/December Relationship, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Penis In Vagina Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Strangers to Lovers, Trans Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27163679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UlsPi/pseuds/UlsPi
Summary: Toni Crowley is hired as a nanny to young Warlock. She has her reputation and her abilities, but she's not prepared for Mr Fell, the gardener of the estate.***There's an age difference relationship, but everyone is of age. Crowley is good with kids and Aziraphale is mildly good with plants.They are in love.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 58
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please, save your hatred for ppl with no rsd. Thank you.

Life had been good to Toni Crowley. It could all have gone wrong so many times, but we are not here to multiply the misery of the world by recounting its many injustices, nor we seek to raise awareness, since the gentle reader was expected to come here enlightened and aware, having consulted with much more esteemed thinkers than this bitchy moi. Nous. 

So, as I was saying before the Oriental express of my thought took me somewhere which might have been Istanbul or Constantinople or both, - see, doing it again, but can you blame me? the service is magical - life had been good to Toni Crowley.

Therefore it was mathematically obliged to go a bit sideways and off the rails and into the sort of the unknown that's not too exciting to explore. 

Toni Crowley is parking her vintage car meticulously in the mostly empty car park of a large country estate where a certain American ambassador lives with his terribly nuclear family of a bored and frustrated wife and a two-year-old menace of a son, whose parents decided to name him Warlock. 

While Toni Crowley is thus occupied, making both this writer and this reader yawn like an Eldritch yawner, let us take a stroll down the memory lane, which isn't a lane and more like those precious drawings that two-year-olds tend to produce. 

Toni Crowley was born one day. One day Toni Crowley was born. It was a happy occasion for his mother Ela Crowley, an aroace woman of formidable reputation. She was an agroecologist and she literally could grow anything in any place, be it a desert or something else. She insisted that she had only ever acted according to the laws of nature, but everyone else suspected that she might have invented those laws. 

She named her child Anthony after Vivaldi. Now, everything could have gone wrong right there, but Ela made sure her dearest child had the best childhood possible by simply listening and trusting said child's judgement, so by the age of four it was firmly established that Ela's child was a girl and she took it from there.

She homeschooled Toni, who was still named after Vivaldi, but out of her own choice, because Ela's work took her everywhere. Said homeschooling consisted of travelling, showing Toni around various orchards, laboratories and museums. She'd read Toni a book every now and then, but Toni was curious as an Eldritch curiouser, so Ela swiftly taught her darling daughter to read, which meant Toni grew up autodidactic, and Ela admired her for it. 

Toni's pursuit of knowledge was as ravenous as her appetite. Twice a year Ela had to seat Toni down and help her get ready for various standardized tests which Toni passed with flying colours in order to be able to get back to the books of her own choice. 

Before long and to everyone's surprise, Toni grew up into a smart young woman. She went to Oxford, gave it up for Cambridge, gave it up for a year of volunteering in Kenya where she realised she wanted to work with children. 

So Toni got back to Cambridge, gave it up again to study in Finland, where she stayed until her early thirties.

She had built herself quite a reputation, writing for various scientific journals about proper education of queer children. She might have not been fitting in Cambridge, but she was a daughter of a scientist and a scientist herself. Her mother's connections ensured her all appropriate recommendations and back-up.

She had also turned her articles into a parenting book, which would have been just as influential as Montessori's but give it a few years. At least Toni could buy her vintage Bentley and have a few months of financial freedom.

The bored wife of the American ambassador, Harriet, had read Toni's book and offered her a job. Toni's principles didn't agree with such a position, but she took a chance to raise a privileged white boy (if he was a boy) enlightened. 

And she finally finished parking. The way she had parked could have made one suspicious of her getting her driving license by way of bribing several officials. She would rightly consider such a statement sexist, but she wouldn't argue with the truth of it if sober. 

\---

Toni was settling in quite well. The mansion was enormous, she had a few rooms just to herself, and young Warlock was a mischievous child. The payment exceeded Toni's expectations, so she spent it foolishly on many Dr Marten's, silk stockings, a few vibrators, several dozens of books and a yucca. Well, ten yuccas, to be quite honest. She dearly loved yuccas after all.

Life was being very good to Toni Crowley. 

\---

Most days Toni and her young ward spent outside, taking advantage of fine weather and large grounds. There were gardens and a park, and Toni hung quite a few swings from several trees. Every day, as she returned with Warlock back to the mansion, her fine black circle skirt was green about the knees, her white blouse was stained with soil and pollen, the rolled up sleeves yellowish with sweat, her laced boots practically filthy, her red locks in disarray, her pale brown, almost yellow eyes glinting with joy… Oh, and Warlock looked like a very happy bog creature. The ambassador, whatever his name was, was concerned at first, but his wife glared him down and Warlock proved to be a strong child, which was all that actually interested the nameless ambassador. He did have a name. Toni just couldn't care less.

Toni didn't seek approval or friendship of other staff members, but they liked her all the more for it. The butler, Mr Gabriel, didn't like her much, but he too was stared down by Harriet. 

Who might have mentioned that Toni was a trans and if Mr Gabriel intended to keep working he'd have to be on his best behaviour, or Harriet would sue the soul out of him. Like all bullies, Mr Gabriel chose to keep his arrogant demeanour and employment.

Toni met them all, apart from a reclusive gardener, Mr Fell, who was Mr Gabriel's younger brother, but was apparently a much more pleasant person to be around, so he got to use the family name, no matter how hard Mr Gabriel fought to achieve the opposite. 

Toni didn't care much about the gardener, although she appreciated the state of the grounds. Her mother would have done better of course, and her own yuccas were practically perfect in every way, just like Toni herself. 

So it went and went and went. 

One day in October Toni was walking in the gardens, while Warlock enjoyed some quality time with his mother. Harried had been properly instructed what to say to her child and what to never even think, so Toni was quite content.

Then she looked up from her shiny boots and thus began her downfall. 

\---

He was of average height, a bit shorter than Toni, and quite a lot older. He had to be at least in his early fifties, she thought. His hair was all unruly curls, the colour of the first daffodils, and his eyes, when he looked up at Toni, turned to be the most beautiful shade of sky blue. He appeared soft, lacking any sharpness that Toni considered quite fetching in herself. Round shoulders and careful hands, pale colours of his clothes, and something definitely off about him. 

The day had been rather hot, especially for a British October, and Toni had to remind Warlock to stay hydrated a few times, but she hadn't been here to warn the soft-looking angel of the gardener, who smiled brightly at Toni and collapsed behind a rose bush. 

"Oh bugger all…" Toni rushed over the bush and kneeled next to the gardener. Mr Fell, she remembered. 

And then remembered some more.

Aziraphale, that was his name.

"You went down like a lead balloon," Toni chided. She took off her jacket and folded it neatly to place under the gardener's head. "You're supposed to carry around a flask. Don't you have one?" Toni mentally counted how much it would take to run to the house and bring the man some water. She found herself quite thirsty too. And she did carry a flask on her, of which she should have thought immediately, but was somehow prevented from it by those damn blessed blue eyes. 

Toni carried her flask on her thigh under her skirt when Walock wasn't around, and he wasn't around. She briefly considered her virtue but then remembered she wasn't a fucking Victorian governess… or she was, and it made even more sense to flash her finely shaped thigh at the fainting man. After all, he was behaving like a Victorian maiden, and she, Toni Crowley, a proud transwoman, came to his rescue. Dashingly. 

"Oh dear… I'm being simultaneously chided and seduced by a nanny… how very British of me," Aziraphale said faintly. 

"I don't seduce unconscious people. They can't admire me the way I deserve," Toni said primly. She brought the flask to Aziraphale's lips, lifting his head gently. "You drink and I'm very cross with you for not having a flask," she teased. She was the kind of a natural flirt who tended to remain oblivious of their flirting. In her books she had always been perfectly clear about her intentions.

"You're a demon," Aziraphale concluded, having swallowed some water. 

"And you're an ungrateful old brat. Can you sit?"

Aziraphale nodded, and Toni helped him to sit up. "I gave it away," Aziraphale admitted quietly. "There are… some homeless people I let in on the grounds, so that they can sleep safely, and that woman… She was cold and hungry. Dehydrated. I have my flask to her." Aziraphale looked aside. "I really should let them sleep in my cottage, but I'm a coward, and so I mostly just buy them tents. And blankets… Oh…" He stared at Toni. "Please, don't tell Gabriel. I'm delusional, I never… oh good lord."

Good lord indeed, because life had been good to Toni Crowley and now it hit her on the head and heart.

"Take mine, then. It's only just after all." She handed Aziraphale the strap upon which her flask had been fixed, the leather warm with her smell. "It's adjustable. You can carry it on your waist…"

It suddenly occurred to Toni that Aziraphale had a perfectly reliable belt on him, but since looking at the belt involved looking at Aziraphale's soft round tummy and - horny bloody hell - crotch, she quickly looked the man in the eye.

"That's very kind of you…  _ Nanny _ ." Aziraphale giggled. 

"I'd say you're an old pervert," Toni said. She stood up, adjusting her skirt. And shoved her hands in her pockets, because she didn't know what else to do with them. 

"You're a very good… educator. Ms Crowley."

Aziraphale said her name reverently, with a ramble of a distant thunder, of a heavy autumn rain. 

"Ngk. Certainly. Now give me your hand. You should rest in the comfort of your bed."

She helped him to his feet and then to his cottage, hidden in vines and overgrown lilac. 


	2. Chapter 2

The problem with being in love is that being in love is a problem, and yes, my penmanship is impeccable. Of course there's that stormy feeling of giant prehistoric butterflies doing their giant prehistoric thing in one's stomach, and of course there's yearning and tugging and pining and all… It all makes for a good story but deals a heavy blow to one's health and intestines, since those butterflies need plenty of space to fly around. 

Toni caught herself imagining two giant prehistoric butterflies having giant prehistoric sex. It was both hilarious and tragic.

She took Warlock on an exceptionally long walk, but she had to, she really did, because the nameless ambassador decided he had an issue with "My little pony", and while Toni herself had some issues with the series and ponies in general (also, damn them horses!), she wouldn't let anyone criticise those damn ponies as too  _ girly.  _

She showed the nameless ambassador his own collection of little ponies, all pink and fluffy and adorable. The ambassador had thought it was well hidden, but Toni was a scientist, nothing was particularly well hidden from her. Then she manhandled the ambassador into the living room and made him watch those queer ponies being all bouncy and pony-y with Warlock. It was a moment of beautiful bonding between father and son, and Harriet told her husband, who had to have  _ some  _ name, that she was using it against him in case they decided to divorce. The ambassador what's-his-name shushed his wife on the grounds of Pinky Pie being particularly pinky and pie. 

When Toni put Warlock to sleep, she was sure she could hear the political couple doing some very inappropriate coupling. 

Toni really didn't need that right now. 

She went down to the kitchens and took a piece of a marble cake and put it into a lovely glass container. She grabbed some chocolate fudge too, for good measure. 

A glance at a dark window confirmed that Toni looked lovely and good enough to eat. Oh, she really had to stop that line of thinking. 

Toni reminded herself that she was wearing all the appropriate layers and she genuinely wanted to check on the damn kind gardener. 

A coat over her shoulders - English weather, right? One day you can collapse from dehydration and the next you need your handsomest pea coat in perfect condition. The things she did for gardeners. 

Well, there was one lovely lumberjack girl back in Finland… but Toni never brought her anything other than herself. 

Toni made her way to the cottage.

\---

The last thing Aziraphale expected was that incredibly beautiful nanny showing up on his doorstep at half past nine at night, with a cake and fudge, no less. Aziraphale had been thinking of her since her first day when she walked past him adjusting her red hair and swaying her hips. 

It was one of his two great secrets, and if helping out homeless people was objectively good, having dreams and visions of the young nanny was just as objectively disgusting. Aziraphale wasn't a prude, but he wasn't a pervert either. 

Not that there was anything perverse about his desires. Toni was beautiful and had to be admired. 

Nevermind. 

"My dear?" Aziraphale adjusted his shirt. "Pardon me, I'm not wearing a tie." 

"Oi, don't quote Chekhov at me. I'm not your Sonia!" Toni invited herself in. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Have you been reading Chekhov? Do you want some cake? You look like someone who makes the best tea."

It was about a hundred of different flirting strategies right there, but Toni was, frankly, aware of about one and a half of them.

"I didn't mean to quote Chekhov," Aziraphale said and closed the door behind Toni. "What… which… tea do you like?"

"Black as my soul. I used to smoke, so black as my lungs. Earl Grey, three sugars."

"My dear lady, that's too much sugar… but you're quite sweet yourself." Aziraphale blushed. It looked well on him. Everything looked well on him, as far as Toni was concerned. 

"Such a flirt," Toni deadpanned. Damn her ginger nature, she blushed like a fast ripening tomato. 

"I wouldn't dream of it…"

"Take the cake!" Toni shoved the cake into Aziraphale's hands. "Eat it, bless the Lord, whatever. Actually, don't bless the Lord, she's alright."

"She is indeed," Aziraphale agreed. He walked to the kitchen to put the kettle on, and Toni took off her coat. Really slow.

And she rolled up her sleeves… oh Jeeves. 

She sauntered into the kitchen as well. The night wind was definitely a lot like Joe Cocker, no pun unintended, what with all the growling and crooning of the trees and the universe. The universe is a very good crooner, but it sounds like Nancy Sinatra. Take it as you want. See, I only want to be admired, not understood. I'm like the Riemann hypothesis that way. 

Aziraphale's kitchen had to be photographed and put in the dictionary to illustrate the definition of entropy.

"Damn. You must never cook. You'll use arsenic instead of oregano one of these days." 

"They look completely different, my dear lady. Besides, it's a good test, you know… how well some men hold their arsenic." Aziraphale smirked like a bastard. Giant prehistoric butterflies were being very naughty in Toni's stomach. They were reenacting 100 days of Sodom, but consensually and with a lot of lube. Do butterflies have lube? Or gender? Or quite extraordinary amounts of sex… Oh, where's a good lepidopterist when one has a need of them?

"I have Cell Block tango stuck in my head now," Toni accused. 

"You had it coming, my dear," Aziraphale replied. 

"You know, I thought you were a good person, but you're a bastard."

"Never tried to hide it. So, three sugars?"

"Make it four," Toni said. 

"Oh my dear, you're in for a sugar shock."

"You're quite sweet yourself," Toni replied viciously.

They settled in the small living room, a companionable fire and crackling silence between them. 

Toni shifted her legs. One over the other. Put them back together. Slightly opened them. 

Aziraphale swallowed. She was beautiful, just so impossibly, irritatingly beautiful. 

Toni ran a finger to trace her lips as she studied Aziraphale's overflowing bookshelves. 

"No Spinoza. No Sagan. No Feynman. I'm unimpressed."

"I'm so sorry, my dear, I'm afraid, I'm weak for fiction mostly."

"Doesn't it make for a sad life?" Toni asked with a genuine concern.

"On the contrary! I have adventures and love affairs I'd never have had otherwise…" 

"Well, explains why you're a lousy gardener." Toni sipped at her tea. It occurred to her she didn't have to be an arse, but no one held Toni Crowley back. Ever. Her mama hadn't raised her that way. 

"I'm average. The plants are alive, blooming too…"

"You're too soft on them. You need to show them who's their master."

"Does it work for you?"

"It does. My yuccas are perfect, and my mother is a world renowned agroecologist."

"Oh, so you  _ are  _ her relative."

"Does it bother you?"

"Not at all."

Toni ran a finger up her bare forearm. 

"It should. She'd castrate you for the way you treat those roses… I would too."

Aziraphale took it in as an invitation it was. 

"Are you trying to seduce me, Toni?"

"Is it working?"

"Oh it does…"

"Then act on it. Perhaps." Toni smiled devilishly. She wasn't feeling particularly devilish, but that man was  _ maddening _ . 

"I'm so much older than you, my darling girl."

"Yet, we're both consenting adults. My charge is asleep, and your charge could benefit from your absence."

"You don't need to be mean…" Aziraphale stood up and approached Toni's armchair. He kneeled there and looked at her. She was remarkable, worth looking at, being worshipped… And yet she was all earthly, real, breathing, her heart pounding. 

"Would you unbutton your blouse for me?"

Toni slowly did that. 

(People, Joe Cocker, now. I mean it. Meaningfully.)

Aziraphale grabbed Toni's ankles and moved his hands upwards, hitching up Toni's skirt, then lowering her stockings. She was wearing very lacy panties… 

"Is it for me? All this lace?" 

"No, I'm dressing like that all the time. It's pretty."

"It is, my sweet." Aziraphale ducked down and mouthed at Toni's clitoris and labia. Medical language, ew. "Your bra… could you lower it too?"

Toni did so. Her poor heart sang and soared, she wanted Aziraphale to  _ have  _ her, but… it appeared to be something casual, and well, Toni's mother had told her that Toni felt too acutely, but then again, Toni had Aziraphale's clever mouth on her nipples, nipping and lapping and softly biting.

Toni had had her share of sex - awkward, wonderful, in love sex, just sex, role play, you name it. Actually, don't name it. Toni is in love and bound by many stereotypes. So is Aziraphale. Just so you know, you know. 

But damn fuck curse it all! It had never been like that, and it's a cliche she had done her best to avoid, because she wouldn't be conquered by a cliche. 

She'd like to be courted, perhaps, she'd like to be loved, but… 

Actually there's no but. A lot of butts involved, yes, because she straddled Aziraphale, ready to ride him, while Aziraphale's fingers teased her anus. Italian rival. Diderot. The best erotic novel of them all, and she didn't know why it was the best but she loved it the best, and said novel dripping (huh) off the quill of the man who wrote lesbians as beautiful and predatory… confusing… so confusing. 

Toni's knees were burning, and so were her insides. 

"You're so hot, my darling, so hot and welcoming." Aziraphale sat up to suck on Toni's nipples again, oh the bastard! 

And Toni couldn't stop herself from saying:

"Surgical masterpiece…" Toni stopped herself at that.

"Oh darling, all human made, all selfmade. So beautiful… A perfect creature… yes, yes." Aziraphale flopped onto the carpet, his eyes shut and his lips red with kisses. 

And then he sat up again, holding Toni tenderly. "Darling… I'm so sorry. I'm clean. I trust you to be so too. I trust you." Oh, a kiss on the lips, long and languid. "But can I come inside?"

Toni had a partner who was all about her being unable to get pregnant, he found his pleasure in her presumably lacking… 

And Aziraphale…

And Aziraphale… was Aziraphale. 

"Come inside me."

"I'll eat you out afterwards, I swear… you're so perfect. I saw you your first day and I was a creep… you're so beautiful."

Toni was rocking on him, and he was so good, so good. His hands found perfect purchase on Toni's hipbones, and Toni  _ loved  _ being all disheveled for him. 

"Perfect… so perfect." Aziraphale rocked in Toni, keeping up with her rhythm. Even the lumberjack girl from Finland couldn't be that good. All of them always had found a flaw with Toni, even if they didn't know she was trans, but that handsome man, old-fashioned, a lover of Jane Austen and Eyre, was telling her she was perfect. It was worth everything, be it Paris or anything else.

"And the king rode into Paris and said…" Toni breathed into Aziraphale's collarbone.

"Paris is well worth the mass… but he was an idiot. I'd burn down Paris for you, Toni…"

He had to be lying, but he was lying beautifully.

Toni went back to her rooms and watched  _ A fantastic woman  _ until dawn.

\---

The following night Toni walked back to Aziraphale's cottage.

"I want to be a fantastic woman. I am one."

"Oh you are, darling, no doubt about that, but you're so much younger… and… the only thing I can offer is… your pleasure."

"Oh, don't do that. Don't make it about me. I'm not good enough for you, well, then, I'll take what you have to give. On my own terms!"

Aziraphale was kissing her against the door of his cottage then. Those lips, so wonderful, so tender, so careful… 

"Beautiful… my girl… so beautiful…"

"I can't have your kids."

"What a foolish thought… you're so beautiful, my girl. I'd kiss you forever." 

And Aziraphale kissed her forever, until their lips hurt and their breath was short. 

And he didn't love her. She wasn't fantastic enough, apparently. 

But then he'd show a slug to Warlock and tell him how important every living thing was, so at night Toni would make her way to his cottage. Again.

And again.


	3. Chapter 3

Toni loved kissing Aziraphale. There was a complex relationship between Aziraphale's mouth and practically everything - for example Aziraphale moaned when he ate something he particularly enjoyed, and for all his talk of giving Toni pleasure blah-blah-blah, his moans when they had sex - or kissed with their clothes still on - were even better that those some cakes earned. 

So Toni sought his kisses more than anything else, although no, she sought all of him.

He never turned her down, not once, and Toni stopped that line of thought which implied she was clingy. 

And even if she was just that, clingy and needy and what have you, it all depended solely on the attitude and mood. Objectively, she wanted love, she wanted Aziraphale's soft and clever touch, his soothing voice, his blue eyes, his round shoulders. 

There wasn't a strict policy about relationships among the staff and Toni didn't feel the need to hide, but at one point she found herself in need of swift karma porn. 

As was previously stated at least twice, Toni loved kissing Aziraphale, and when she walked on her own, when Warlock was with his parents, which didn't happen much, but Toni was working on it, she would come to Aziraphale and kiss him on the cheek, just so, just to make it known to mostly plants that the gardener was firmly taken. 

"You don't need to be so tender with me, dear girl. We… we're not… we're just…" Aziraphale would babble, until he couldn't and smeared soil on Toni's cheeks and pulled her into a more serious kiss. Kisses are serious, because they are frivolous. Easy affection should always be serious, and for this it needs no small amount of humour. Pardon me, an unpleasant situation is about to take place, and I'm not eager to get there.

Oh whatever, let's get it over with.

But actually Harriet, when she carefully asked about the rumours concerning Toni and Aziraphale and received a calm answer, remarked: "Bet he's very good… has to be, for you, Toni." And she winked.

Toni said that a lady wouldn't kiss and tell. Harriet blushed. 

There, nowhere to escape now. 

So Warlock was with his parents. They were preparing for a short visit back to the States where Warlock's grandmothers were in the middle of their own preparations of smothering their little grandson with grandmotherly love, which made Toni feel less guilty about refusing to go with the family. 

She walked outside and found Aziraphale, who usually wasn't hard to find. He tended to be in the places where Toni would inevitably find him, because he cared about her a lot, but not like in a romantic way and more in a way of a fuckbuddy. Fuckbuddies do spend hours kissing and arguing about Shakespeare. 

Oh, on one memorable occasion, Toni was on her front, her chemise drawn up to her shoulders, as Aziraphale fingered her clitoris and prostate in vain hopes of stopping Toni reciting Shakespeare's sonnets. It went like this, on Toni's part:

_ "Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage…  _ oh fuck, yes, yes, oooh, angel...

_ Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit, _

Angel, oh, angel, yes, right there, oh damn...

_ To thee I send this written embassage, _

Fuck, fuck, fuck, it's so good, you're so sweet, yes...

_ To witness duty, not to show my wit _

Aziraphale would never admit that he came untouched that evening because of Shakespeare combined with Toni's moans. She was awfully smug about it just as it was. 

Aziraphale was smug about her sweet complaints of being deliciously sore and kissed everything better. For two hours. Fuckbuddies do that, right? Toni squirmed in his arms, holding onto the headboard of Aziraphale's bed for dear orgasm number x to the power of n. Plus one. Fuckbuddies absolutely did that. 

The only drawback of eating Toni out was that Aziraphale couldn't tell her how much he lo… enjoyed her company. 

I think I've done everything in my power to stray away from an unpleasant experience. 

Toni kissed Aziraphale, cheek, forehead, called his forehead  _ gentle brow _ , moved to his the slightly upturned tip of Aziraphale's nose, all the while keeping her arms crossed on her chest. Aziraphale was tired, so he pulled Toni closer and kissed her lips. Her arms remained crossed on her chest, but Aziraphale was holding her slightly around her shoulders and smelled like autumn and cold and rain and tea. 

"How very unbecoming of you!" An unpleasant voice boomed nearby. Aziraphale snapped his head to look and see Gabriel. Toni was more concerned about suddenly losing the feeling of Aziraphale's ministrations. 

Aziraphale tried to both hide the fact they had been kissing and keep protectively holding his… fuckbuddy. Paramour. 

"You're an educator! Cajoling with a gardener, of all things! And with this gardener, this fat, embarrassing fool! Well, he couldn't do any better than a failed experiment like you." Gabriel seemed victorious. 

"I beg your pardon, but I'm not a failed experiment. I'm a very successful one," Toni huffed. Her heart was beating fast with fear and rush of humiliation. Life had been good to her so far. And still she was sassy. 

Aziraphale turned to her and looked at her with open adoration, for once. "So proud of you, dear girl."

"I'm telling Thaddeus!"

"That's his name!" Toni exclaimed in delight. "And never call Aziraphale anything other than the precious cinnamon roll that he is. And an angel." 

Gabriel proudly walked back to the house, which he had to leave very quickly afterwards, because Thaddeus wasn't a fit man and he could barely hold back his wife to keep her from commiting a murder. Things had to get a bit better afterwards, but as it always happens with things, they were too bitchy. 

Toni walked Aziraphale back to his cottage. She hoped for a kissing session to put the ideal kissing to shame, but instead Aziraphale took a few steps away from her. 

"We… need to stop. We're in trouble as it is."

"How come we are in trouble, angel?"

"Don't call me that! I'm a… a… lecherous old man, Toni. You'll be fired, your reputation destroyed! I don't know what they'll do to me for… fraternising."

Toni briefly considered slapping Aziraphale. Then she thought of hitting him with a pan, but she was sure she wouldn't find it quickly enough. 

"Fraternising?" She hissed back instead. 

"Whatever you wish to call it. Fuckbuddies. Casual lovers."

"I'm against violence, I am, but I'm holding myself with admirable restraint right now, because you deserve a thorough spanking." She crossed her arms. 

"Well, you  _ are  _ a nanny. And… what did I even expect from you? You just… you show up with all those cakes and presents and you smile at me, and… I'm not asbestos."

"Behaving like one," Toni said. "Toxic and righteous." She wouldn't cry, because she wouldn't. End of story.

"Toni, please go. I'll take the blame, if I have to…"

Toni brightened, unexpectedly, to Aziraphale's hurt and distress. 

"I won't hit you," Toni announced, moving closer and closer until Aziraphale's back hit the wall. "I'm all for positive reinforcement!" And she leaned in and kissed Aziraphale. To drive her point even closer to home, Toni held Aziraphale where she wanted him, although she wanted him everywhere, but alas, she was only human. "Shut up!" She hissed when she came out for breath. Another kiss. "I'm Toni Crowley and I'm nuts about you, Aziraphale Fell, and you care about me too."

Toni wanted to recount all the times she caught Aziraphale staring at her, and she had realised somewhere along the way, that she was fantastic indeed, which wasn't ever in doubt in general, but came into one because of Aziraphale… Damn them cute older men who held Toni's heart between those caring hands. 

"You'll be…" Aziraphale couldn't finish because Toni kissed him again, and then there was knocking. 

Toni gave Aziraphale a very grave look and went to open the door. She must have appeared quite disheveled since Harriet blushed.

"Sorry to interrupt an intimate moment, but… just wanted you to know that I sacked Gabriel. I might have tried to kill him."

"That wouldn't help Thaddeus," Toni sneered. 

"No. But he can help me get rid of Gabriel… permanently. I just wanted you to know, and if you have Mr Fell chained to bed and ready to fly, then go for it." 

"Harriet, you should never allow us to talk only about men."

Harriet shrugged. "I do love a gossip and I don't gossip about women."

They parted amicably and Toni returned to her hyperventilating angel friend. 

"What did you do? How… who was it? I can't move with fear, my darling, I'm so afraid…"

Toni rolled her eyes and kneeled down between Aziraphale's legs. "Listen, you idiot. It was Harriet. She told me she fired Gabriel. She thinks I have you chained to the bed to have my way with you, which isn't a bad thought, but we'll explore it later. Could you at least agree to be my intimate friend?"

"Friend? We… we have nothing whatsoever in common."

"We do."

"Toni, please. This is madness. What do you think you're doing? You think we'll have a sweet spring wedding and live here for the rest of our lives?"

"I hope you're proposing, because the answer is yes. If you're not proposing, the answer is  _ no, propose.  _ I can propose myself."

"I'm not marrying you, Toni, you…"

"Pity." She stood up, adjusting her skirt. "You should. I'd make us both very happy." She swirled around and left the cottage. 

You know it just occurred to me that it's chapter three and I still haven't mentioned Goethe. 

So, let me stop everything and just say it. 

Goethe. 

Goethe.

Goethe. 

See you tommorow.


	4. Chapter 4

Bleurgh, that was depressing. Shall we talk about softer and sweeter things?

Warlock made Toni a promise to bring her everything she wanted. She wanted Warlock back, so he swore to come back, no matter how much he was tempted by his grandmothers. He promised to eat his vegetables too, even without Tony making salads into sculptures.

Thaddeus stepped in and said he was sorry about Gabriel.

"You have the grounds for yourself, Toni. Use them wisely." He winked. 

Toni told him that, sadly, Aziraphale was too afraid to continue their arrangement, and Harriet had to hold Thaddeus down to stop him from storming Aziraphale's cottage to explain to him that nothing safe, sane and consensual could be forbidden in the residence of an American ambassador.

\---

Toni went to her rooms. She examined her outfit - perfect, as usual. Examined her hair - could be more of a mess, could use a flower crown Aziraphale had promised to make for her come spring.

She had intended to spend the fortnight of the Dowlings' absence in Aziraphale's cottage, arranging his kitchen and cooking for him. She had picked up some tricks from the cook, Michael, who seemed to be permanently constipated but warmed up to Toni when she asked for advice. 

Toni pictured herself being fucked from behind, any hole of Aziraphale's liking, and Aziraphale's fingers inside the remaining hole, and the sun falling on her pale skin. All the symphonic joy of being alive and in love and kissing and a rare sunny day in autumn.

Aziraphale usually fucked her twice, one orgasm at least per each hole, until Toni was full of him, of his semen and smell and care, then he'd put her above himself and eat her out for maddening hours. 

And even when he couldn't go again anymore, he'd make sure Toni came on his fingers too. 

Toni walked into her bathroom and undressed. She was covered in love bites, she was sore everywhere - she was loved, so thoroughly, beautifully loved, and instead of having his head up Toni's arse, Aziraphale showed remarkable flexibility and had his head up his own bum, round and soft and covered in downy hair, like Aziraphale's chest and belly and legs and arms… he had so much fucking hair…

Toni shook her head. Self-care. That was what she needed, so she prepared herself a very hot bath, added lavender and chamomile and rosemary and soaked in the water. 

She stepped out after an hour to take a new book and fetch herself a bottle of wine.

The book she grabbed was Marilynne Robinson's  _ Housekeeping.  _ Aziraphale had highly recommended it, rocking his cock slowly between Toni's thighs, both too spent, too tired and too tender for anything more strenuous. Toni loved those languid conversations, when Aziraphale was too sex drunk to keep up any pretense, when he touched Toni everywhere, soothing and teasing and kissing better, and better still. 

The plot was lost to her, since she herself was lost in her memories. 

"Had we been truly romantic," she said into that air, "had we been truly mean for each other, as we  _ are _ , you'd have heard me now. I'd say, hey angel, my pretty love, I know you're afraid, but…"

"Let's be afraid together," Aziraphale's voice said. 

Toni snapped her head and saw Aziraphale leaning on the doorframe. 

"I'm sorry, darling, I… I came to… to talk."

"Get in, angel. The water is still good. I've just added some more. 

Aziraphale sighed, but he couldn't resist Toni, not ever, so he undressed and slipped into the bath behind Toni, holding her to himself immediately. "I'm sorry… I… you made me so happy, Toni Crowley. You made me feel loved and made me comfortable in my body. I'm used to being mocked and laughed at, but you made me beautiful. My beautiful darling…" A finger under Toni's chin proved to be unnecessary, she was looking at him over her shoulder just the same. "Let's be afraid together."

"Absolutely. Yes, let's be afraid together." Toni turned around to sit in Aziraphale's lap. "I dreamed… I…. I want to spend these two weeks with you, in your cottage."

"I still have work to do, won't be able to stay with you, darling." Aziraphale put his hands on Toni's shoulder blades and pulled her closer to him, mouthing at a nipple. "And what will you do all day?" The other nipple got some tender care as well. 

"Sort out your kitchen. Naked, probably."

"Too dangerous," Aziraphale commented. He slid one hand down to caress between Toni's legs. 

"I'll wear something of yours," Toni said. Aziraphale's hair was damp and soft under her fingers, curls tangling around the digits as if out of their own accord. 

"Yes… yes, I like the idea."


	5. Chapter 5

Most of the fortnight Toni and Aziraphale spent in Aziraphale's cottage went on like this. (Insert here a long baroque tirade about the meaning of a fortnight. Whatever you want, I don't feel like writing one but it should be here.)

So it went like this. 

Toni would greet Aziraphale wearing something of Aziraphale, and just that thing. Socks, for example. A bowtie once. 

Aziraphale would eat Toni out pressed to the front door. Aziraphale, being the stubborn bastard, would never stop until Toni said so or his knees gave out. Mostly the latter, because Toni would be floating in Aziraphale's tenderness and care, because the aftershocks would shake her grave years after her death and would make everyone believe that the place is haunted. You shouldn't blame a girl for dreaming. 

Then Aziraphale would have Toni once again in the kitchen. Actually, as Aziraphale would be having Toni on the kitchen, he'd think forlornly that he couldn't understand how he had just spent a day without being next to, inside of, beneath or above Toni. It appeared incomprehensible. 

They would pretend to have dinner and read a book. It would always end with Toni riding Aziraphale, with Aziraphale's fingers deep inside her arse. 

It would all be tender, it would all be so soft, so wistful. 

They would be caressing each other too, just careful and open touches, Aziraphale worshipping Toni and Toni worshipping Aziraphale. It wouldn't all be sexual, strictly speaking, because perhaps it's not very arousing to rub each other's feet and to hold each other close. 

"You're my best friend," Toni said once, when there were merely two days left until Warlock's return. "You're my best friend and the best partner. My most significant and not at all other." She kissed Aziraphale's nose. And lips. And forehead. And eyes. Especially eyes.  _ Drinking blue,  _ she'd call it. 

"Do you think we should get married?" Aziraphale asked when there was only one day left. 

"If that's a proposal," Toni replied, raising herself on an elbow. 

"Darling…" Aziraphale touched Toni's hair. "Darling, dearest, I'm mad about you, and… and this is indeed madness."

"I'd be happy with you even in Bedlam," Toni replied seriously. 

"Oh my sweet love, you make it so difficult to refuse you anything…"

Well, it ended up as usual, Toni riding Aziraphale and Aziraphale's fingers in her arse. 

And it continued with hours of kissing and, maybe, just maybe, some tears. 

\--

Aziraphale did his best to stop himself from running away and dying of embarrassment. 

But Toni was waiting for him, and he'd never leave her waiting. After all, she smiled at him with joy and mischief. She kissed him as if he had been the most dashing gentleman. She looked at him as if he had indeed been an angel. She  _ loved  _ him. 

"How can someone as lovely as you…"

"Oh shut up and just marry me. We'll talk later. Maybe in ten years. Marry me and kiss me."

And Aziraphale did. 


End file.
